


Nemesis

by numbertwelvebakerstreet



Category: American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biblical References, Biting, Crucifixion, F/M, Flash Fic, Gore, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Hassun, Jazz - Freeform, Kissing, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sass, cutting tw, lithuanian folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1482472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numbertwelvebakerstreet/pseuds/numbertwelvebakerstreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>American Gods AU where Hannibal is the modern incarnation of Satan. He finds the goddess Nemesis chillin' in his dining room and they have a sass-off, which ends in a deal to decide the fate of still-incarcerated Will. Doesn't actually include any characters from American Gods - just takes place in a similar universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nemesis

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Немезида](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703783) by [Herber_baby17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herber_baby17/pseuds/Herber_baby17)



> I'd heard Mads and Bryan refer to Hannibal as Satan enough times in interviews that I kind of latched onto the idea of Hannibal literally being Lucifer in a human body, like the religious figures in American Gods by Neil Gaiman. Also, Nemesis is my favorite goddess, so I just wanted to write her into something. So I hope you like it (please like it)!  
> 

The janitor working the morning shift found the judge as he was, suspended on chains attached to the courtroom ceiling. The judge’s eyes had been blindfolded, his right hand armed with a sword, his left, with a set of brass scales. On one scale lay the judge’s dissevered heart. On the other lay his brain.

 

The night before, Hannibal Lecter received a visitor at his home.

“That noise is vulgar,” he greeted her contemptuously.

The woman had been whistling the horn intro to “Minnie the Moocher” as she teetered backward lazily in one of Hannibal’s expensive dining room chairs and appeared to contemplate the portrait of Leda and the Swan across from her. She ceased whistling abruptly and let the front legs of the chair fall to the floor with a sharp cracking noise.

“You should find a sweet, tender little Dickensian angel to play your ridiculous harpsichord for you.” Her voice was crisp, frank, and husky, like that of an Old Hollywood actress. “I know how you gobble those ones up.”

She stood and faced her host. Her dark, coarse, Roman features had not changed since their last meeting, an age ago. This was with the exception of a modern floor-length toga dress and, to Hannibal’s chagrin, elaborate sleeves of faded green tattoo ink. Her left bottom wrist bore the image of a set of scales; her right, that of a sword.

Any bystander would say the woman’s wide, black eyes looked directly into his as she spoke again, but Hannibal knew this was only an exercise of her sharp hearing and sense of direction.

“I don’t care for your taste in art, Lecter.”

“How _do_ you form opinions on art you can’t see?” he asked, feigning real curiosity.

She only smiled dryly at his impertinence.

“In any case, shouldn’t you of all people prefer this version of events?” he continued, gesturing toward the painting with a slight tilt of his head.

Her smile disappeared.

“I’m interested in truth, not artistic license,” she said.

“What is truth?”

“You’re recycling old lines, dear.”

“What are you doing in my home, Dalia?”

“What are you doing with my emissary, Lecter?”

“Your emissary? Is that what Will is?” Hannibal suppressed a laugh.

“Yes.” she replied curtly. “And he’s being tried for your murders.”

Hannibal grew serious as he said, “I never meant for harm to come to Will.”

“It’s funny how often harm comes to your playthings, Lecter, especially when you don’t mean for it to,” her voice picked up momentum and volume as it went. “You have your share of scores to settle, so I usually leave you to it, with obvious exceptions, namely, when you take one of mine. This conversation should sound familiar to you; we’ve had it on several occasions; why is it that we keep having this conversation, Lecter?”

Tears welled in Hannibal’s eyes.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please help Will.”

“Why should I? You won’t stop with him.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“You'll never be satisfied.”

“I know. Please.”

She took Hannibal by the shoulders and slammed him backward into the wall.

“There needs to be balance,” she said. “He’ll betray you like you betrayed him. He'll cripple you.”

Hannibal nodded frantically, his eyes still pleading.

She tore off Hannibal’s jacket, then ripped apart the buttons of his shirt before removing it just as savagely. She slid her hands down Hannibal’s bare shoulders and along his arms until her fingers interlocked with his, lifting their arms in unison until their bodies took on the stance of crucifixion. As she aligned her tattooed wrists with his bare ones, Hannibal felt a slicing pain along the length of his forearms. She muffled his outcry by pressing her lips against his and sinking her teeth into his hubristic tongue.

Satisfied, the woman withdrew from Hannibal’s mouth, licking blood from her lips and allowing her new confederate to take a strangled gasp of air.

“You owe me an offering,” she smiled into his ear as she released him.

She sang placidly to herself as she left, _Poor Min, poor Min, poor Min_.

 

 

 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I like the song "Minnie the Moocher" to go with this partly because of poetic symbolism and shit, but mostly because it's really creepy and dark and self-consciously cheesy and American (like American Gods and NBC Hannibal).  
> Here's a url follow the url do it: https://soundcloud.com/insyncmusicservices/minnie-the-moocher-cab


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